Eyes Open
by dignifiedyetunrefined
Summary: When 18-year-old Hermione Granger wakes up to find herself in 1991 near the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts, she discovers to her horror that there is no way for her to return to her time and therefore she must relive all of the horrible years of war, but she finds her eyes opened to the man that Professor Severus Snape really is along the way.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

Although she would never admit it, Hermione Granger had always been somewhat prideful of her hair. Was it a nuisance at times? Yes. Did it give others yet another reason to make fun of her? Usually. But the fact is, she had never met anyone else who had hair quite as bushy as hers. It was unique to her and, while she may hate it at times, she still felt this peculiar sense of pride where it was concerned simply because it was something that made her unique from everyone else.

In fact, there were only two times in her life that she could ever remember seeing someone who had hair even close to being as ridiculously bushy as hers. The first was when she was in her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had been hurrying to pack up her things so she could make it back to the common room from the library before curfew (it was already perilously close and drawing closer every minute) when she heard a commotion near the entrance to the restricted section.

The whole incident had been burned into her memory. She had debated for a few moments over whether she should go check it out (in case it was someone in need of help) or continue on toward the common room in self-preservation. Eventually, her conscience had won out and she had turned to go investigate. When she arrived, the first thing she had noticed was Madam Pince, standing with a shocked look on her face, a hand rising to cover her gaping mouth, and Professor Snape, kneeling on the floor close by. The second thing she had noticed was the person Professor Snape was kneeling beside, a woman with hair nearly as bushy and unkempt as her own. She had not been able to see the woman's face because it had been turned away from her. She had, however, seen the book lying at Professor Snape's knee, just a short distance from the woman's outstretched arm and hadn't been able to stop the startled gasp that escaped her lips. She had had that book in her hands just minutes before.

One of the many reasons the other students had found to make fun of her was her need to always follow the rules. So, in a fit of defiance she had decided to enter the restricted section, the one place in the vast library that she had longed to enter since coming to the school. It didn't matter that the other students would never know she had done it; it only mattered that she did. She had crossed the line and walked a few feet in, eyes scanning the books that lined the shelves with passionate curiosity, excitement rushing through her veins. Her heart had raced as she finally reached out a hand to touch one, expecting Madam Pince to arrive at any moment and berate her. But that didn't happen, she had managed to pull the book off the shelf and study the cover for a moment, only to realize that the title was written in a different language that she didn't recognize. Disappointment had coursed through her as she opened the book and flipped through it to realize that the whole thing was written in that language. The first book from the restricted section that she had ever had the chance to study and she couldn't even tell what it was about.

The disappointment had quickly been pushed to the back of her mind, though, when she had heard a small noise nearby. She hadn't known what it was and she hadn't cared. She had just gotten out of there as quickly and quietly as possible and gone to pack her things to return to the common room.

So how was it that that very same book had come to be in the possession of the mysterious woman lying on the floor only a couple of minutes after she had had it? And why was the woman now unconscious? She hadn't had time to contemplate the situation any further as Professor Snape had turned to glower at her and proceeded to send her running off to her common room. However the whole situation had replayed itself over and over in her head throughout the next several days.

The second time she had seen someone with hair almost as bushy as her own had been a few years later, in her fourth year. She had been walking back to her common room after her prefect rounds for the evening when she saw one of the strangest moments she had ever witnessed concerning Professor Snape. He had been coming toward her down the hall when a call of "Severus!" had had his eyes widening as he had turned on his heel and walked down the hallway he had just passed. She had reached the hallway just in time to see him pulling a woman into a dark alcove. The woman's laughter rang clearly through the halls, covering the hushed whispers of the professor. All Hermione had managed to see of the woman was her back and a head full of out-of-control bushy hair.

The sight had startled her for many reasons. The bushy hair rivaling her own was one, obviously. But aside from that it had made her wonder, did the professor have a girlfriend or even a wife? He had never mentioned anything, but then why would he? And who would have ever thought of him as material for such a relationship? Had she ever even actually thought of Professor Snape in such a way or as anything other than her surly potions professor?

It had saddened her a bit to realize that this was the first time she had realized that there might be more to him than just a professor or potential villain. It had been the first time she had realized that Professor Snape was more than just Professor, but that he was Severus, as well.

 **A/N** : Hello, all! It's been a long time since I've written fanfiction...or anything really, but I've had the urge to write and was struck with an idea so I decided to go ahead and see where it takes me! I'm a little rusty, but I hope despite that that you enjoy this story. More to come soon! Let me know what you think so far!


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

Hermione stared listlessly at the castle before her, now just a shadow of its former glory. The battle had taken its toll on the once grand building she had called home for so long, but then, who hadn't been affected by it? At least the building could be rebuilt. There had been far too many lives lost that would never be returned. The people around her were unusually quiet as they stood just within the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all that was to be heard was the occasional sniffle. She assumed that most people here were thinking along the same lines as her and she knew that, had she not been so numb, she would have joined in the sniffling. But she was numb, and so she could not have forced tears even if she had wanted to.

It was funny in a morbid sort of way, the irony of it all. This should be a joyous time, full of excitement and cheer. The war was over! Voldemort was gone! Most of the Death Eaters had either been killed during the battle or rounded up right after. It was safe in the wizarding world once again! Harry Potter had done what he needed to do and was alive and safe to tell the tale, but even he had seemed morose over the past week since it all had come to an end. And the Weasleys had been mourning the loss of one of their own, their Fred. No, although victory was achieved and there was no more threat, no one had come out of it whole. Everyone had missing pieces and scars that needed to heal. No one was truly, fully happy.

Add to that the fact that she had kissed her best friend in the middle of the battle and he now seemed to be avoiding her, choosing instead to hang out with his ex-girlfriend, just one more thing to think about and worry over in the days following the climactic end to a tale that had really begun years before she was even thought of. And all of the conflicting emotions were just too much to deal with. So Hermione had become numb. Numbness was the only way she could seem to deal with it all at the moment.

Living with the Weasleys and Harry at the Burrow for the past week hadn't helped, it had only seemed to drive her further toward it. She hadn't had much to do but sit and watch as the people around her grieved their loss, each in their own way, and miss her own parents and worry over whether she would ever be able to return their memories to them. When Professor McGonagall had shown up at the Burrow the night before, saying that a group was going to the school the next day to begin rebuilding and repairing the damage done in the battle, Hermione had jumped at the chance to go. She had needed to get out of there more than anything. She had needed to do something useful.

And so here she was, standing in front of the broken down building, unable to equate what she saw with what she remembered so clearly from six years of attending the school.

A hand on her shoulder made her turn her gaze away from the damaged castle to see Professor McGonagall standing beside her, a deep sadness in her eyes as she stared ahead. "I never would have imagined that Hogwarts could be brought to this," the professor said, the same sadness in her eyes lacing her voice. Hermione pursed her lips and reached up with a hand to cover the elder woman's. She had never seen her professor like this. She was sure if she hadn't been feeling so numb, it probably would have unnerved her. As it was, the small gesture of attempted comfort was the most she could muster within herself to do.

Professor McGonagall looked at her with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "There is a lot of work to do. We had best be getting to it." And with that she began walking toward the castle. Everyone else slowly followed behind. They split into groups to go into different parts of the castle and assess the damage.

Hermione followed along with her group, adding her thoughts where needed, but mostly remaining silent. If anyone noticed the stark difference in her attitude and personality, nobody mentioned it. Nobody was really behaving as they normally would anyway.

Her numbness and apathy that had grown steadily over the past week remained firmly in place until they reached the place that had once been her sanctuary in the school, the library. It was there, as she looked over the destruction of overturned tables and chairs, fallen bookshelves, and ripped and torn books lying scattered about the room that her carefully constructed walls finally cracked and she knew they would break before too long. She only hoped that she could get herself alone before they finally did.

Fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, she listened without actually hearing as her group decided what needed to be done in the library. They debated for far too long in her opinion, as she wanted nothing more than to be alone at that moment and could find no means of escape without drawing attention to herself. Finally, _finally_ they began to move on, but Hermione silently remained behind, sneaking into the vast room she had spent so many of her school days exploring.

As soon as the sounds of her group faded away, she allowed her carefully constructed walls of apathy and numbness to break. Slumping against the nearest wall, her whole body shook with the sobs of mourning she had not allowed following the battle until this moment. She knew it was silly, allowing a thing like the library to finally be that breaking point, but she was crying for much more than just that. She mourned the dead, she cried for the pain of the injured, she felt for the people mourning their loved ones, she missed her parents, she grieved for the loss of her childhood, as well as that of so many others her age.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed there, grieving everything she had kept bottled up inside. When she finally came out of the fog of her grief she saw that the sun was still shining, though she wasn't sure where it was in the sky. Her stomach growled, indicating it must be past lunchtime, but she found she couldn't bring herself to care. She was just thankful no one had come to look for her, allowing her to grieve on her own, though she was sure they had realized she was missing by now. Duty called out to her again. It wasn't right to make them worry.

With a sigh, she pulled herself up off the floor and looked over the library once more, before deciding that taking a quick walk through it, to see exactly how badly it had been damaged, wouldn't hurt. So she began carefully watching her step along the way as she toured through the shelves and tables and chairs and books that were strewn about the room. It wasn't until she reached the entrance to the restricted section that she paused for a moment as she looked at the ground before her. There, outside the entrance was a book that she would never forget, the first book she had ever touched from the restricted section. It must have been hit by a curse during the battle, though it looked to still be intact.

She couldn't keep herself from reaching out to it, momentarily allowing a smile at the reminder of her first attempt at youthful rebellion. If she had known then what the future held for her, maybe that small act wouldn't have meant so much to her then. But she could honestly say now that she was glad her twelve-year-old self hadn't been aware of what was to come. No amount of warning could have prepared her.

She didn't have time to contemplate these thoughts any further, however, as the moment she touched the book a blinding light surrounded her, before all went black.

 **A/N:** First of all, thank you so much to those of you who reviewed! I'm really excited to get going with this story. I'm enjoying writing it so I really hope all of you enjoy reading it! I know it may seem a little slow at first, but I wanted to give a good idea of where Hermione's mental state is. Next chapter Hermione wakes up in the past! I'll have it posted soon, hopefully! Be sure to let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

The sound of voices speaking softly, too softly for her to hear what was being said, somewhere nearby was the first thing that registered in her mind as the darkness and fog of unconsciousness slowly began to fade. Where was she? She couldn't remember. Why couldn't she remember?

Sadness. She remembered sadness. Harry and Ron. Where were they? Surely they were nearby. Books. She loved books. But for some reason the thought of books made her sad. Why did books make her sad? Books were things of pleasure, not sadness.

She inhaled deeply and quickly through her nose and opened her eyes as her memories finally appeared and jolted her into consciousness. The library! She had been in the library! But she was not now, she realized as she looked around. Where was she? This place didn't look familiar. Turning her head for a better look about the room, she couldn't contain her gasp at what she saw. But it couldn't be. It wasn't possible.

Sitting on the other side of the room, their eyes now trained on her, were Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall. How was that even possible? The only logical conclusion she could come up with in the split second she thought about it was that she must be dead. But that didn't explain why Professor McGonagall was there. Had she died as well? Did something happen at the castle? An attack by some remaining Death Eaters?

It was funny, she didn't feel dead. But then what did a person feel like when they died? Surely there must be some sort of book written with theories on the subject. The absolute absurdity of her thoughts didn't quite register in her still-addled brain and she couldn't help the question that fell from her lips.

"What happened?"

The three professors almost seemed surprised by the question. That was odd. They were not normally ones to really be surprised by anything. After a moment, though, Professor Dumbledore rose from the chair he was sitting in near the fireplace and walked over to where she was lying. He sat again in a chair that was next to the bed she was laying in.

"That, my dear girl, is a question we were hoping you could answer for us," he said. There was no twinkle in his eyes and it made her feel very off, somehow. This whole situation just didn't quite sit right with her. But then, she was dead, wasn't she? And at just eighteen, too. Why would that sit well with her? They had just defeated Voldemort barely a week ago and she had survived all of that, only to end up dead now? No, it didn't sit right with her at all. And they couldn't tell her why.

"What do you mean, Professor? Where am I?" His eyes seemed to somehow grow even more serious when she addressed him by his title and a little voice at the back of her mind told her that she had the wrong theory about what her current state of being was. She pushed that little voice out of her mind; there was no other possible explanation...Was there?

"Am I correct in saying that you are our Miss Hermione Granger?" he asked, his voice grave. The hairs on the back of her neck raised and she felt goosebumps break out.

Narrowing her eyes at the man sitting next to her, she said, "Oh course I'm Hermione Granger. You've all known me since I was eleven and have watched me grow up over the past seven years. Why would you think me to be anyone other than Hermione Granger?"

She heard her former Head of House murmur an "Oh, dear," but she could no longer see the two professors that were sitting on the other side of the room, her view of them blocked by the former Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore's serious eyes peered at her for a moment before he finally responded.

"Therein lies the problem, my dear. We know our Hermione Granger to be eleven-years-old and currently safely ensconced in the warmth and safety of Gryffindor Tower."

His words settled in the air and her whole body tensed as her mind contemplated the reality of what he was saying. There was another Hermione Granger here, an eleven-year-old Hermione Granger. What did this mean? What did this _mean?_

She studied the man's face for a few moments as her mind spun round and round trying to comprehend what was going on, but not daring to fully accept the only explanation her mind could now come up with. Indeed, the man before her looked a bit younger than she remembered, but then it had been a year since he had died and, really, who was to say how one would look in the after-life. Did a person remain looking exactly as they had when they died?

She licked her lips, although it was useless as her mouth had suddenly gone dry, before she asked her next question. "Professor, what is the date today?"

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes full of deep understanding of what must be going through her mind. She knew that whatever the answer to her question was, she wasn't going to like it. It would merely be a confirmation of what she already knew to be true. She steeled herself, part of her hoping that for once she was wrong about the conclusion her keen mind had led her to. _Oh please, oh_ please _, let me be wrong._

"Today is September 30, 1991."

With those few words, as expected as they were, everything came crashing down and her whirling mind came to a sudden stop, unwilling and unable to accept all of the implications of that news. There was a stillness in the room, the other three occupants seemingly as frozen as she was, or maybe that was just in her mind. It was quiet, so very quiet, only the fire blazing in the fireplace dared to make a sound. She knew the headmaster was still looking at her, waiting for her to respond, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything. The past year had been too much, far too much, and maybe she had just finally reached her breaking point.

The silent stillness stretched on, though Hermione wasn't sure for just how long. It was only broken when the fireplace flared to life and Madam Pomfrey stepped out, brushing off her robes and announcing, "I've finally gotten that woman calmed down and settled in for the night. She'll be ready to open the library again in the morning, don't you worry, Albus. Now, how is our surprise visitor doing?" The Mediwitch finally looked up from her robes and her gaze immediately landed on Hermione. Obviously not sensing the atmosphere of the room she had just walked into, or perhaps just ignoring it, she began to walk over to Hermione's bed as she said, "Ah, good, you're awake."

The mediwitch pulled out her wand upon arriving at Hermione's side and said, "Now, Miss Granger, I just need to run a few tests and then I can leave you to your discussion." And just like that she began casting diagnostic charms. Her sudden appearance was followed by an equally sudden retreat upon the announcement of a mostly clean bill of health, her malnourishment and the signs of lingering dark curses notwithstanding, and a quick good night to all in the room. Hermione would not have been able to deny that the matron's manner had surprised her that night, but she was very thankful for it. She didn't think she would have been able to answer any questions had she asked her any anyway and it had provided the jolt she needed to get her mind working again. It also didn't pass her notice that the woman had called her by her name, meaning that they had had a very good idea of who she was before she had woken up to confirm it.

Having managed to collect herself enough to think clearly about the situation she was in, Hermione pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing Professor Dumbledore in his chair and enabling her to see the other two professors still seated on the other side of the room. Professor McGonagall stared at her from where she sat, a concerned look written on her face. Professor Snape stared into the fire, his face his usual blank mask.

Hermione turned back to look at the headmaster and asked at last, "So, you mean to say that I am currently in the year 1991, in which I have just turned twelve years old and begun my first year at Hogwarts?"

Professor Dumbledore looked at her with his discerning eyes and replied, "Yes, my dear, I believe that that is the case."

"Do you know how I came to be here?" she asked, hoping beyond hope that he did and would be able to send her back to where she belonged before too long, right away even. She knew, though, that if that was the case then he and Professor McGonagall would not both be looking at her with such drawn looks on their faces.

"We do not. All we know is that you appeared in the library in front of our poor librarian with this book in your hands. We were hoping you'd be able to give us more of an idea as to how you came to be here. You gave Madam Pince quite the shock, I'm afraid. She isn't used to having disorder in the confines of her library and you brought quite a lot with you, especially as your younger self was in the library at the time of your arrival." She saw for the first time that he was holding the book that she had picked out of the restricted section in first year and again what now somehow seemed forever ago amongst the wreckage of the library. Upon hearing that she had arrived with the book, everything else that he said barely registered as her mind pondered the idea that maybe the book had somehow brought her here. She couldn't get too far with her theory, however, because her former headmaster's next question brought her back to the present. "May I ask how far in the future you have come from?"

She sighed as she contemplated the situation she was in and wondered just how much she should tell them. Revealing anything about the future could have devastating effects on the timeline and everything she had ever read about time travel had warned profusely against doing so. She decided it would be in her best interest, and the best interest of the future as she knew it, for her to keep as much knowledge of the future to herself as she could. So, with that being decided, she simply replied with, "I come from 1998, but I'm afraid I won't be able to tell you any more than that. Playing with time can have horrible consequences, as I'm sure you are aware, so I will have to politely refuse to answer any more questions you may have about where, or rather when, I have come from."

The famed twinkle entered the headmaster's eyes for the first time that night as he regarded her carefully. "No, indeed, we would not want to mess with the timeline in any way while you are with us. Though, I must say, my dear girl, you look as though perhaps changing the timeline would not be such a horrible thing in your case."

She was a little surprised by his candid appraisal of her appearance. She knew she looked pretty bad, worn and scarred and just altogether as though she had lived a rough life, but it wasn't like the Professor Dumbledore she knew to point that sort of thing out quite so readily. Or was it? She didn't really know him all that well, after all. Harry was always the one who had been close to him. He really hadn't paid her any mind, now that she thought about it. Never would she have dreamed that he would be the one to suggest allowing a change to the timeline, though. That seemed incredibly strange to her.

She looked at him as she thought over everything she knew about the man before her and she felt a new wariness creeping into her. There was no time at the present to fully analyze the feeling she was getting, to really think it over and get to the bottom of it, but she knew that this was not a feeling she had ever before felt toward the beloved headmaster of Hogwarts. She didn't like it.

The previous years had been tumultuous and difficult for everyone in the wizarding world, but no one, not even Hermione, had ever thought anything bad about _the_ Albus Dumbledore, at least no one had ever said anything of the sort around her. It was strange to think that this man had been such an important figure in her life for so many years and she had never once, throughout the years of chaos and confusion, thought to distrust him. And now here she was, thrust into a time perhaps even more uncertain to her than the years of war she had faced previously and desperately in need of people she could trust, finding herself filled with distrust toward the one man she had thought only a moment ago would hold the key to getting her out of this situation.

In that moment she wanted only to be alone so she could try to regroup and think through all that was racing through her mind. As if sensing the shift in her mood, her closing off to those around her, Professor McGonagall spoke up for the first time. "Albus, perhaps it would be best to discuss this further in the morning. It is late now. I am sure Miss Granger needs some time to adjust to the news that she has received tonight. It is quite shocking to all of us here, to be sure."

Hermione sent the woman a thankful look as she began ushering the man out of the room, the dark potions master follow behind. She caught his eye as he stood in the doorway and was surprised to see something close to pity in his eye. Pity? He pitied her? How curious. But then he was gone and the door was shut, leaving her alone with her former head of house.

Professor McGonagall came over to her bedside for the first time that night and sat in the chair that had previously been occupied by the headmaster. She reached out and grasped Hermione's hand in both of hers as she said, "Don't worry about what the headmaster said. No one is going to try to get information regarding the future out of you. We all understand just how dangerous that would be. I'm sure you have a lot to think about right now, but I think it would be best if you tried to get some sleep. We can talk things over further in the morning and begin trying to find out how you got to be here, and how to get you back to where you belong." The professor looked at her sadly for a moment. "I promise I will do everything I can to help you while you're here."

She whispered a thank you to her professor as she headed to the door. With a fond "good night" the door was shut and Hermione was left alone to contemplate everything that had happened in the short amount of time since she had woken up.

 **A/N:** First I want to say a big thank you to everyone who reviewed! You're all so kind and hearing what you think really does make my day! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. This chapter was a little longer in coming as I was trying to better plan out how exactly I want the story to go, but then as I was writing the story just kinda took over and began leading me in a different direction. Haha :) That's one of the things I love about writing, though. Anyway, please let me know what you think!


End file.
